You're Coming Home
by si-star-x
Summary: Sam's walking home from class one evening when he gets jumped by a familiar fist. It's Dean, and he wants to take him home.  Gen, Stanford-Era


As though in slow motion, the ragged-haired head snaps to the side, the fist from the assailant striking with the desired force. Sam's lip splits, blood bursting from the seams and the fist coming away bloody and knuckles bruised.

"Dean-" Sam tries to interject the assault, but is instead met with a shove that has his long legs flailing and his backpack slamming against the ground, the contents to jabbing him sharply in the ribs.

"C'mon-" Sam gasps, one hand darting to his face and the other frantically unhooking the loops from around his shoulders. "Can't we just talk this out?"

"There's nothing to talk about, Sam." Dean shakes his head, pulls his jacket off and tosses it in the direction of his brother. "You just sit back and let me-"

This time it's Sam's turn to kick out a long leg, catching his brother good just above his trick knee and watching him go down with a thud. The younger Winchester recoils back, tries to claw his way out of the situation, but a hand is grabbing his hoodie already. He yanks back with desperation but the fist connects with his nose, palms scraping across the concrete as he holds himself up. Regardless of his meagre efforts to escape the blow, he is forced to draw both hands up to protect his instantly-swelling and bloody nose.

With Sam's arms out of the way, Dean takes the opportunity to slam into his brother, fists connecting with the too-thin frame and driving hard into his stomach, his chest.

"DEAN!" Sam yelps, still holding back from throwing any of his own punches. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What I should've done to make you stay." Dean replies, throwing himself at Sam, pinning the taller guy's hips beneath his. "Making you incapable of leaving."

Sam twists underneath him, uses the compromising position to force his knee up into Dean's crotch.

"Don't be a jerk!" He exclaims, letting out a groan as he feels his nose throbbing and his lip swelling up from the attack.

Sam's knee had connected awkwardly and although it was enough for a stifled cough, Dean was able to regain composure almost instantly. He drives another aching fist into the side of Sam's chest, sniffing in satisfaction as the exertion causes his heart to pound and his breathing to come in short, fast pants.

"Ow!" Sam yelps as he feels his ribs rapidly bruising from the force, "C'mon Dean, this isn't fair."

"Hit me back then, bitch." Dean spits out the words, eyes wide at the sight of his brother providing little resistance. "Hit me back."

"I don't want to -" Sam starts, but is met with a gasp as Dean's calloused fingers wrap around his neck, staunching his ability to breath. Sam tries to suck in air, but is met with agony tearing through his face and chest.

It's enough.

His arms raise weakly, but he manages to force a palm to Dean's face which resembles more of a slap than a punch, but it's something, and it causes Dean to grimace.

"Fucking leaving us, Sammy." He shakes his head, lets one hand loose but continues to grip the broad shoulder of his younger sibling. "I should've broken your legs back then."

Sam's eyes widen, and he sucks in a painful breath. "Don't..."

"Don't worry." Dean speaks softly, a bruise already forming across his cheekbone from Sam's pitiful attempt at retaliation. "I'm just taking you home with me."

"I'm not coming back!" Sam exclaims, shaking his head with venom, shifting underneath the pressure of his brother's weight against him. "Get off me, Dean. If somebody sees us..."

"They'll what?" Dean chuckles, "Think I'm raping you?"

"Dean..." Sam shakes his head, "Let's talk this out."

Dean squints his eyes as he glares down, Sam is scared, and God knows he is too. As Dean lets his weight shift, Sam takes it as his opportunity. Through the fire in his gut and ribs he bucks his hips, throwing Dean off kilter and into the pavement. He hears a low grunt as their legs tangle, but he quickly uses his height to his advantage as he yanks one of Dean's legs at the hip, forcing him to fall hard down into the concrete.

"I'm not coming home." Sam coughs as he pulls himself up, grabs one of Dean's arms and holds it behind his back tightly.

Dean feels his face scraping across the floor, feels a wet sensation as scrapes open up across his eyebrow and chin "You will." He speaks quietly, and Sam's fairly sure that he can hear tears in his brother's voice.

"Dean..." Sam sighs, groans at a little at his aches, "You're an absolute idiot. I have a life here."

"I don't have a life any more, Sam." Dean's voice is still soft. "I want you back."

Sam's not going home, back to Dad, back to the life, but for a couple of days he's too sore to go to class. He holes up with his brother, who's own face looks like it's lost a fight with a cheese grater, and for two days it's just like old times. But damn it his brother is a jerk, and he's not going back. Not today.


End file.
